Page 32 of His Relentless Angel

Of course, if Isaiah were to show up at the house behind us, he wouldn’t have any luggage since everything is at my apartment, which would further heighten Dad’s suspicion. Isaiah offers, “You have a lot going on. How about I pick up dinner for all of us? My treat.”

My shoulders drop from around my ears at his quick thinking. He’ll have time to go back to my apartment to pack a bag without Dad thinking anything of his late arrival. I discreetly squeeze his hand as we make our way to our vehicles, my belly fluttering at his touch.

“See you soon, baby,” he whispers before helping Dad get the kids buckled into their car and booster seats, then jogs off to his Lexus.

Chapter 15

Isaiah

Sherman watches Bailey and me throughout dinner at the Bartlett house, even though we hardly look at each other. With eleven people—six of which are kids—we can’t all fit at the kitchen table. Bailey and I sit on opposite ends of the new, gray tweed sectional that takes up half of the living room with our plates of pasta and salad. I’m on the right side, easily within view of the kitchen, while Autumn and Brady are squeezed in between us. Every time I look up, Sherman has his eyes on me while Miranda does her best to keep tugging his focus back.

“She’s going to crack,” Autumn whispers out the side of her mouth.

“I know.” I wouldn’t blame her for it either. I can’t think of any reason why I would lie to Bailey, and I know I’d be upset if I found out she was lying to me about anything.

“You’re running out of time. Y’all need to tell Dad soon before she does.”

“I know that too.”

“She’s not going to crack. She’s the one who told us to figure out a way to tell him without giving him a heart attack,” Bailey says a little louder. “After Shayla and Clara are out of the hospital, that’s when we’ll do it, ok?”

“I don’t like lying to him,” I say, staring at my plate.

“Lying to who?” Brady asks with his full chest. Sherman straightens in his seat in the kitchen.

Autumn groans. “Mind your business and eat your dinner.” She shoves a breadstick in her brother’s mouth to keep him quiet.

I make my way slowly to the Fischer house after dinner is cleaned up and put away, leaving Bailey and Autumn to get the kids washed and ready for bed. My muscles tense with the need to sprint back to Bailey’s side, unhappy with having to spend a night apart in order to keep up our ruse.

I pace from the bedroom, down the hallway, and to the living room window that looks out across the street at the Bartlett house, then back again on repeat. Autumn’s small bed might as well be made of cardboard compared to Bailey’s plush bed with her hot and naked in my arms. I’ve grown out of the habit of sleeping with clothes on, as well, and the sweatpants I pulled on before bed feel wrong against my skin.

On my tenth repeat, long after Miranda, Sherman, and Brady have gone to their rooms, I notice the last of the lights turn off at the Bartlett house. My Bailey is going to bed without me by her side, and displeasure pools in my belly. I force myself to lay back down, trying to pretend I’m content with her at least being across the street, but it’s no good. I’m not going to get a wink of sleep.

My phone chimes with a text message.

My B: The kids are finally asleep and so is Autumn. Front door is unlocked.

Attached is a picture of her standing in front of the full-length mirror in the walk-in closet. Bailey has bunched the hem of her T-shirt up to her waist with her hand on her luscious hip, and best of all, no panties.

I don’t even text her back—just hoof it across the street without a shirt or shoes after lifting Miranda’s house keys to lock their front door behind me. I ease inside the Bartlett house, closing and locking the door as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Autumn, who is asleep on the couch.

“Pst.” Bailey stands at the mouth of the hallway, dimly lit by a night light shaped like a whale. She holds her index finger to her lips for me to be silent, crooking the other to reel me in.

I want to sweep her into my arms immediately, but she would probably laugh or moan, which would wake the kids in the nurseries across from James and Shayla’s bedroom. I tiptoe behind her, and as soon as I make it into the primary and close the door behind me, I grab her by the waist and crush her lips with mine.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I whisper when Bailey pulls away and works at shoving my pants and boxer briefs down so she can fist my hard cock. “What if Sherman wakes up and realizes I’ve left?”

“Don’t say my dad’s name when I’m sucking your dick.”

“What?” I bite my fist when Bailey drops to her knees and immediately sucks the engorged, sensitive mushroom head inside her mouth. I release a string of curses into my fist as Bailey takes more of my length deeper into her mouth until she’s gagging. The pleasure of my tip hitting the back of her throat is so fucking good that I’m close to cumming inside her mouth in under a minute.

I grip the bun in her hair. “Ease up, baby, or I’m going to cum down your throat.”

“Yes, please,” she says through a scratchy throat with a smirk, then licks the underside of my dick from root to tip. “Cum in my mouth, love.”

“Fuck no.” I lift her up onto her feet, spin her around after stripping her of her T-shirt, then bend her over James and Shayla’s tall black king-sized bed. “You cum first. Always.” I drop behind her after kicking her feet apart and tell her, “Bite your fist, baby. Don’t want you waking the kids up.” Bailey arches her back, and my dick twitches at saying the kids since it’s all too easy to pretend right now that they’re mine and Bailey’s. “It’ll be good practice for when we have our own.”

“Oh god, Isaiah, yes.”

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